What It Means to Him
by tiffthom
Summary: The Hokage is supposed to be the greatest shinobi in the Leaf, but Kakashi can only feel his best days behind him.


_**A/N:**_ _I started this on Kakashi's birthday, but it never quite came together until now. I've always wanted more perspective from him concerning a lot of things. Tsunade appears as his predecessor.  
_

* * *

The ceremony could have lasted five minutes. At the max, ten. But it lingered, replete with drum beats and the whistling of flutes. The crowd, all clad in white, roared its approval. He was never supposed to get here.

Tsunade had her eyes on him, fixed him with a glower that compelled him to straighten his sagging shoulders. Still, at his own lead-footed pace. He couldn't allow everything to yield to change.

Becoming _Hokage_ was no longer a far-off prophecy his classmates had foretold because they feared him. It was reality, the hat in his hands so heavy with the weight of the will of fire.

The _Hokage_ was supposed to be the greatest _shinobi_ in the village, but Kakashi felt like only a shadow of his former self. He'd died, and conquering the grave wasn't as simple as taking in the breath of life again. Sometimes the bedcovers felt like nooses.

"You will be an excellent _Hokage_." Tsunade moved closer, threatening him with a clenched fist that never left her side. "You'd better be."

Paperwork scaled each corner of his office, and cluttered the desk. Kakashi calmed himself at the sight and inspected the room. The chair behind the desk swiveled per his request. He wanted to see the sun sometimes, not just feel it on his back.

Nestled between two towers of forms and work orders was a white box sealed by red ribbon. His eyes widened and he told himself to give it time. Hopefully, the newness of his title would wear off soon and he'd be Kakashi again. He tugged the bow, tossing it aside. The lid fit tightly, but he popped it loose with both thumbs after securing his hands on either side of the box. A letter rested inside on top of another box, and he hoped this wasn't some fancy attempt on his life.

Kakashi unfolded the paper and fell into the swiveling chair before he lost his footing. He never thought he'd see this handwriting again.

 _Kakashi,_

 _So you're Hokage, huh? Wow. I knew you showed incredible promise. Minato, I'm sure, agrees with me. You have the will of fire burning brightly within you. Make us all proud. I'll be watching._

– _Jiraiya_

 _P.S. Enjoy the exclusive goods!_

The second box concealed original manuscripts of _Makeout Paradise_ , and _the Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi._

"After Jiraiya, you were top pick for _Hokage_ when Sarutobi- _sensei_ passed." Tsunade sauntered in, face flushed and moving as if she'd just stepped off a rollercoaster. Apparently, she enjoyed the after party.

"The elders thought maybe you were too young to deal with such a precarious time as war so Jiraiya held onto the gift and sought me out."

"You were the better choice," Kakashi said, putting the manuscripts back.

"Maybe, but you're the _Hokage_ now so what will you do?"

He turned around, admiring the work of his face being etched in history, in a line of people he'd dreamed of becoming ages ago when Obito wanted his attention, and Rin loved him in secret. When Minato- _sensei_ was like an older brother, cheering him on, but teaching him difficult lessons. When his father hung the moon.

Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke had revived those memories in their smiles and sadness and determination, and now he stood shakily, feeling unsure, disrespecting everyone's faith in him. The life of a _shinobi_ invited hardship, but he'd met each one with blazing and resolute. He remembered that he'd be dead were it not for the dogged spirit of _Konohagakure_ , and that truth was much louder than his cacophonous doubts.

"Well, Kakashi?" Tsunade spoke again.

He faced her, taking the _Hokage's_ hat and putting it on.

"I am the Sixth _Hokage_ ," he started, "and I will protect the village."

"Good answer," she smiled.

* * *

There is a village in the Land of Fire, hidden in the denseness of green leaves that never change their color. In the twilight of each day, looking toward the faces that uniquely shape the mountainside, there is a flickering sunset, the loveliest image anyone has seen.


End file.
